Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Jack carefully guided their ship down. The moment the landing gear touched the platform, he felt the wind. Even through the hull. The prison sat in perpetual atmospheric conflict. Hot air from the desert collided constantly with freezing currents from the ice fields.
The result was a never-ending storm system.
The ship rocked slightly. Jack promptly engaged all of the ship’s mooring brackets, even the back ones, to ensure the Paladin Seeker remained tethered to the landing pad while they conducted their business.
“Comforting place,” Jack muttered.
Madelaine grinned. “You say something like that every single time we land in a new place.”
“Because everywhere we land thinks up a new way to try and kill us. I don’t expect this to be any different. And it’s a gulag. They probably have practiced extra for trying to take us out.”
“Fair point. And just so we’re clear, this place will likely be the same as all the other ones. Unpredictable, right? So keep your head on a swivel at all times and don’t forget, absolutely no weapons. I’m not even bringing a nail file.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I won’t bring my nail file either, because it’s attached to my Swiss Army Knife.”
“Funny.”
Jack planned to be extra vigilant on this worst gulag planet in all the galaxies. He simply hated being without any weaponry for protection.
After securing the ship and activating every security measure Jack had recently installed, they descended the ramp.
The cold hit first. It was not enough to freeze them. It was just enough to remind them that a few steps in the wrong direction on this planet could lead to freezing glaciers.
Then came a blast of hot wind from the opposite side. Welcome in the moment, but he knew that feeling wouldn’t last.
Jack frowned. “We’re only two steps into this planet’s atmosphere and I don't know whether to put on an extra jacket or take all of my clothes off.”
“Well, I’ve never been here either, of course. However, I hear that’s the most articulated description of XkR-9. The motto is, ‘Where you’re never dressed quite right for the weather, no matter what you have on.’”
Jack chuckled.
Once they’d cleared the ramp, Jack pushed the control from his pocket to close and secure their ship. This was definitely the place for all of the extra security protocols he’d installed on the Paladin Seeker to be fully engaged.
Luckily, once they were on the ground, the wind eased up. He’d worried about being blown off his feet once they exited the ship.
Now, though, Jack saw wind buffers stationed around the landing platform every ten feet or so, making it easier to walk across to the building without being hurled into space.
They followed the clearly marked path about fifty yards to an arched opening in the wall, putting them out of sight of the ship, but it couldn’t be avoided.
Through the archway was another large open area. To the right, several platoons of guards marched around. To the left was a building with a stone facade and a small unit of military men coming toward them.
Not too far away, just behind the building, Jack saw the tall tower he’d spotted from the air, the one built fully on the cold side of the planet. In the distance, the other tower seemed to straddle the line between hot and cold. Interesting.
The approaching armored guards each carried weapons that looked considerably more dangerous than standard military issue. Their dark uniforms bore the insignia of the United Galactic Gulag Authority.
Every one of them was male, which didn’t surprise Jack.
On Galactic Gulag XkR-9, it was prison policy. Along with no female inmates, there were no female guards, no female staff and no female visitors. Ever. At least until today.
Madelaine had told Jack that the administration had reluctantly granted the Paladin Courier a singular exemption after a lengthy diplomatic dispute involving several governments, three ambassadors and one particularly stubborn lead Paladin Cabal member.
It was much like all of the planets that didn’t allow women. They’d had to make some sort of an exception because the Paladin Courier was always a woman.
Even then, the Paladin Courier was required to have an approved male escort. And here, Jack expected he would be more bodyguard than escort.
Jack intended to take that responsibility seriously.
The lead man stopped several feet away. Behind him stood six well-armed officers in black combat armor.
Where they wore helmets, the leader’s head of short-cropped iron-gray hair was bare, a folded beret tucked into the epaulette on his left shoulder.
Jack figured the competing winds made it impossible to wear a beret outside unless it was glued to his head.
The man removed his gloves. He was perhaps fifty years old, broad-shouldered, hard-faced and sized Jack up with sharp eyes that missed very little.
Those eyes settled on Madelaine. He wasn’t rude as much as curious. He was also not openly hostile. However, his stare was long enough for Jack to notice. Maybe that was the real reason the man did it.
Jack noticed everything when it involved Madelaine, especially here on this prison planet. He stared at the man until he looked away from Jack’s wife.
“Hello. I’m the Paladin Courier, Madelaine Archer Grey.”
The man’s body straightened even more, as if he’d been slouching before. He hadn’t been.
“Warden Marcus Draven,” he said curtly.
Jack filed the name away immediately, surprised the man didn’t lift up slightly and click his heels together as an exclamation point to announcing his identification.
Draven offered a hand and Madelaine shook it.
Then the warden turned to Jack.
“And you would be the escort, is that correct?” His tone suggested he found Jack’s role here unnecessary.
“Jack Grey.”
Their handshake felt less like a greeting and more like a test.
They kept a tight-clenched handshake for several beats longer than a typical greeting. Jack was absolutely not letting go first.
The corner of Draven’s mouth twitched. Eventually, he let go and their contest of wills was at an end.
“I was informed you would accompany her,” Draven said, as if it was foolish for Jack to accompany the only woman visiting the worst gulag in all the known galaxies.
“Good.” Jack smiled pleasantly. “Because I go wherever she goes.”
For some reason, his response seemed to amuse the warden.
“Yes. I’ve heard that.” The warden didn’t seem inclined to move from where they stood or to get this party started.
Jack decided it was the appropriate time to further clarify his relationship to Madelaine. “I’m her husband.”
The warden stared at Jack much like he’d stared at Madelaine.
“Good to know,” he said.
Madelaine glanced between them as if just realizing there was a silent battle of manly man strength going on.
The air suddenly felt much colder than the icy side of the planet. Then, Draven dropped his surly gaze and stepped aside, lifting his arm in invitation for them to head down the marked path to the nearest building.
Jack took it as a small victory.
The building was plain, but fortress-like in its construction. Jack glanced at the closest tower once more. It rose well above the rest of the gulag’s general construction, that being a line of connected buildings no higher than three stories, all along the odd equator of this hot and cold planet.
“The arrival of the Paladin Courier has been anticipated,” Draven said off-handedly as the three of them walked side by side.
“By whom?” Madelaine asked.
Jack almost huffed in surprise, but took hold of himself. It was an odd question because she’d never asked before. Usually, when they arrived somewhere new, she simply told the person in charge who she was and waited for a response.
They always acted like they’d been expecting her for some time and were surprised she had finally arrived.
The warden’s expression remained neutral. “People above my pay grade.”